Viva la Vida
by VJ Riddle
Summary: A reflection on an AU Harry's brief run at the top before he fell out of favor, to the song Viva la Vida by Cold Play


_I used to rule the world_

_Seas would rise when I gave the word_

Harry looked out over the sea of people gathered in the Hogwart's Great Hall and shouted, "Remember the fallen! Remember their sacrificies! Let us fight!"

Roars of anger and fierce joy echoed in the room, the vast number of people turning and surging out of the building, rushing to the field where they clashed with Voldemort's grand Dark Army, echoes of the dying and feral shrieks of those seeking vengeance serving as a siren song for the Valkyries that carried away the souls of the fallen.

_Now in the morning I sleep alone_

_Sweep the streets I used to own_

Waking up from the dream, Harry looked around at his apartment and groaned, cracking his back as he stood and took his cane. When he had called upon his elemental powers to destroy Voldemort, he had been weakened enough that the Ministry was able to capture him without any trouble whatsoever.

_I used to roll the dice_

_Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes_

They were afraid -- just as Voldemort's henchmen were afriad, every gamble he made, every chance he took paying off in the end. Winning him more hearts and more souls to his cause, destroying those who stood against him by sheer weight of people that had flocked to his banners as the world burned around them.

_Listen as the crowd would sing_

_"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"_

The first few minutes after the fight had been glorious -- a celebration, a grand party to be remembered as a joyful rememberance of the fallen, knowing they indeed had not died in vain, but could rest in peace, they were avenged. Echoes from the past of those who had cheered his name rang in his ears as he turned on his coffee machine.

_One minute I held the key_

_Next the walls were closed on me_

When he woke up the next day, he was in a holding cell, magic bound by suppressor cuffs on his wrists, wand missing and, as he later found out, snapped. Belongings impounded and handed out to those who testified against him in the grand farce of a trial.

_And I discovered that my castles stand_

_Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand_

It had hurt, to see those he had trusted with his life on the battlefield so quickly turn on him when the war was over. Hermione and her hatred of his policy of killing all prisoners and leaving no quarter. Ginny and her jealousy over his lack of interest in her. Other people he barely knew, and some he had grown close too over the war, Cho Chang, Zacharias Smith, Ernie MacMillan, Blaise Zabini. And only one was a person he had expected to turn with the tide of public opinion should he lose.

_I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing_

_Roman Cavalry choirs are singing_

_Be my mirror, my sword and shield_

_My missionaries in a foreign field_

But not everyone had abandoned him. The common people, the laymen and women of Britain, still viewed him as a hero and gathered in secret with his generals, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Susan Bones, to try and redeem his image or get help for him from international sources. They never gave up. They spread the word of his innocence, they guarded his most precious belongings, and his most precious memories, keeping the traditions of the War alive in their stories and their wariness, never letting their children forget who had saved them.

_For some reason I can't explain_

_Once you go there was never_

_Never an honest word_

_And that was when I ruled the world_

Harry had relived his worst nightmares in Azkaban -- the guards there tortured him weekly, the Dementors had been reinstated just for him. He saw her dying over and over again, never able to stop it, never able to say how much he loved her. Once she had gone -- he felt no need for damage control, he left that to Hermione, his PR person. And she obviously hadn't much cared.

_It was the wicked and wild wind_

_Blew down the doors to let me in_

_Shattered windows and the sound of drums_

_People couldn't believe what I'd become_

Finally, finally, he had been freed, the new Minister wanting to show off how much better he was than Fudge. Ron and Neville had come to help him, with Hermione and Ginny wanting to gloat. Despite the horrid image he had presented at the time, Harry had to smile at the memory of the looks on the two girl's faces when they had seen his emaciated and haunted form. They had jerked back as though slapped, and when he had spat at their feet -- it was a beautiful memory. But even more lovely was the memory of being taken to Neville's manor, where he lived with Susan, now his wife, and Ron. The headquarters of those who had remained loyal to him.

_Revolutionaries wait_

_For my head on a silver plate_

_Just a puppet on a lonely string_

_Oh who would ever want to be king?_

But now it had come full circle. They screamed for his head again, thinking it was his turn to save them, but he had refused, taking his people and leaving. Relocating to an island that had been given to him by one of the many people who had left all their things to whoever defeated the Dark Lord. Good riddance to Britain, they could deal with their own problems. After they had treated him like crap for most of his life, alternately loving him and hating him, why should he save them? He was free now.

_I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing_

_Roman Cavalry choirs are singing_

_Be my mirror, my sword and shield_

_My missionaries in a foreign field_

And there were his friends. His true friends, the ones who had never faltered, wavered, or betrayed him. The ones who loved him, and whom he loved. They had always been true. They had never abandoned him, and he would in turn, never abandon them. They were his family.

_For some reason I can't explain_

_I know Saint Peter won't call my name_

_Never an honest word_

_But that was when I ruled the world_

He was doing too much to wish for death now. Even in the pits of his despair, he had never wished for death. In Azkaban, it was for vengeance on all those who had lied to him. In the war, he lived for the future, hoping for a chance to someday live in peace with his friends and family. Now, it was to watch his neices and nephews grow up and become great witches, wizards, scientists, teachers -- whatever they wanted to do.

_I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing_

_Roman Cavalry choirs are singing_

_Be my mirror, my sword and shield_

_My missionaries in a foreign field_

"Uncle Harry!" the children screamed when he walked out onto his balcony, running to hug him as he laughed, welcoming them into his heart. Looking up, a blazing grin crossed his face as he hugged his first and dearest friend, welcoming him back from his mission to England to see what was happening. "Well Harry," Ron chuckled, "Fudge was the first target of the new guy."

Harry just laughed, "He is welcome to them! He is welcome to them."

_For some reason I can't explain_

_I know Saint Peter won't call my name_

_Never an honest word_

_But that was when I ruled the world_

Maybe he had ruled the world once, been a king and conquerer. But now, he had more than he ever had, and he was content. There was honest joy in his life now -- companionship and comradeship, never faltering, never failing. Trust, the truth, and his family ran rampant around him.

Who would want to be the king?

Not Harry. He was happy right where he was.


End file.
